


i've never been this far from home

by orphan_account



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2012, Angst, Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 00:50:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5723356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s 2012; Dan misses Phil possibly too much, but it sure seems the feeling isn’t mutual. Of course, Dan doesn’t know the whole story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i've never been this far from home

**Author's Note:**

> so i wrote this awhile ago and it's my first fic up on ao3 as i try to figure things out <3 also the title is from two door cinema club's "sleep alone"!!

It wasn’t unusual for Dan to pace around in front of Phil’s door at three in the morning, gripping the hair at the base of his neck as he contemplated what the outcomes would be if he just sneaked into Phil’s bed and laid his head on the drowsy older boy’s chest. There was a distinct longing for Dan to have his face pressed up against Phil’s familiar skin, to inhale the same cologne that Phil’d been wearing for the past three years (because Dan said he loved it on the first day they met).

Alas, Phil would probably kick Dan out the moment he walked through the doorway. At least, that’s what Dan figured the most plausible outcome. He didn’t know that Phil sat awake in his bed, listening to Dan’s soft footsteps outside his door. He didn’t know that Phil wondered what would happen if he emerged from the door and took Dan’s hand to lead him back into the warmth of his bed. He didn’t know that Phil thought Dan would yell at him if he did so.

So, just as he had every night for the past month, Dan padded back into his own room and stared up at the ceiling until the sun lit up the darkness.

Those were the early days after Dan snapped, anyway. Eventually, Phil would hear the footsteps outside his bedroom and think, _“He’s at it, again?”_ Eventually, Dan would just be walking back and forth to get a glass of water, not even sparing a glance at Phil’s closed door. Eventually, Dan wouldn’t come out at all because he knew that Phil had brought someone home.

And it hurt. It hurt to hear through the thin walls someone filling the space Dan had once occupied so happily. The pain itself wasn’t stinging or piercing; a dull ache never left Dan’s chest. He hadn’t meant to push Phil this far away. His intention was never set for it to go this far. He thought their “break” would just be a week long time to settle. But, then it became a month, and then two, and then five. And then Phil brought people home.

Dan couldn’t force himself to go out on dates, let alone bring someone home. Of course, he’d never talked to Phil about how he was feeling, so Phil had every right to assume that when Dan went out late at night he was hooking up. On the contrary, Dan just went out to get drunk and numb the importunate ache in his chest for a few hours.

There was really only one event that caused Dan to lose all hope of reconciliation. He had been walking to the kitchen to make himself some dinner when Phil turned a sharp corner and they ran into each other. Dan’s heart dropped when he didn’t smell the comforting, familiar scent of Phil’s cologne. Phil had changed his fucking _cologne_. Dan tucked his chin into his own chest to hide the redness of his face and proceeded to the kitchen without a word spoken to Phil.

Easily reduced to crying, Dan was not surprised whatsoever when he pulled out his phone and a tear immediately splashed onto the screen. He hastily wiped it off before opening Twitter and tweeting _“how do i wash it all away?”._

Inevitably causing a shit-storm, Dan turned off his phone and sunk onto the floor, pressing his face into his knees. He knew Phil wouldn’t come into the kitchen while Dan occupied the room, so he paid no effort in hiding his sobbing. Phil had probably already left the apartment, unaware of the indirect and the blubbering mess in the kitchen.

After some time, Dan lifted himself back up to his feet and opened the fridge. All his movements seemed to be slowed, as if he were walking through water. He was numb, but he continued to carry on without thinking. He couldn’t concentrate on his cooking, but somehow he got it done. He didn’t remember eating, but he found himself washing the plate and setting it off to the side to dry. He didn’t quite realize that he’d been sitting in the shower for two hours, but the searing water had painted his skin red. And he definitely didn’t mean to sneak into Phil’s room and steal his old bottle of cologne, but as he inhaled the scent he had sprayed all over his sheets, he didn’t regret it too much.

Phil hadn’t come home that night, so Dan returned the cologne bottle to where he had found it. Phil’d probably stayed over at someone else’s; at least he spared Dan’s ears (and heart) for once.

Subsequently, Dan began feeling as if their house was no longer a home. He spent most of his time out, whether it be with a friend or alone. Sleeping over at other peoples’ homes became a go-to as Dan didn’t want to run the risk of being present when Phil brought another person home with him.

He thought the pain might fade, given time. He thought it wouldn’t hurt anymore, but after a few more months of the dull, persistent ache in his chest, Dan knew he had to act. He couldn’t live like this any longer; dodging his flatmate at all given circumstances and staying out much too late every night.

One particular night, he had been out with a few friends. They didn’t know about the turmoil in Dan’s life, since they weren’t particularly close friends. Really, Dan hadn’t noticed that they all left him alone at the bar only a hour or two into the night; also, they hadn’t noticed that Dan didn’t leave with them until later.

Later couldn’t come soon enough, for Dan. He wanted later, now. He wanted to get over this bump with Phil later, or _now_ , but he didn’t know if they ever would. To Dan, Phil was already too far gone. How could he ever love Dan again if he were like this: a drunk, broken mess that drowned his feelings at the bar? Too far gone. Phil deserved better than he, Dan thought. Phil deserved so much better.

That thought didn’t stop Dan from yearning, however. He couldn’t help himself, even if Phil did deserve better. Ultimately, Dan found he couldn’t even succeed in drinking to forget about Phil. The numb that he used to strive for whenever he went out no longer came. He found no escape from the aching pain and no escape from reliving nights sat in his room while Phil had someone in the room over; no relief from the pushing thoughts of how he ruined _everything_. Why the _fuck_ did he flip? Why the _fuck_ would he suggest a break? _Why, why, why_ did he do that?

It became too much in Dan muggy, blurred mind. He could barely handle this while coherent, how was he supposed to cope while irrational?

He wanted to rip his hair out, smash the drink glass in front of him, or grab anyone and just make out with them. _Anything_ to forget Phil Lester. Instead, he stumbled out of the bar and sat on the curb. He took out his wallet and made sure his Oyster card was there. The picture on the card reminded Dan even more of Phil, and he needed to go. He couldn’t put up with this anymore. The bus could take him somewhere else. _Anywhere else._

Dan lifted himself from the curb, blacking out temporarily after standing too quickly. He clenched his eyes shut for a moment before heading in a direction where he figured he could find bus stop. The walk could’ve been nice, if he were sober and if he hadn’t fucked up with Phil, Dan decided. The radiant neon lights forced Dan to shield his sight and the blaring music streaming out of every building pounded in his ears. Of course, then, there was the fact that Phil just wouldn’t leave Dan’s mind. Dan thought that maybe every step he took away from their apartment, the less it would hurt. So far, he was wrong.

After walking for God knows how long (because Dan sure didn’t), the tottering boy came to a bus stop bench. He flopped onto it, leaning his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He just wanted it to stop. He needed Phil to stop torturing him. Albeit unknowingly, Phil was causing Dan so much turmoil. Dan wanted to fight him. And kiss him.

Finally lifting his head from his hands at the sound of tires on pavement, Dan stood from his spot on the bench and approached the bus doors. In order to not fall down as he climbed the few stairs of the bus, he grasped onto the silver bar running up beside the steps. He pushed his Oyster card over the sensor before scanning the nearly empty bus for a seat. Deciding on one against a window near the middle of the bus with no one around it, Dan sunk into it and pressed his forehead against the window. When the bus started moving a few seconds later, Dan removed his head as the rumbling of the vehicle made the throbbing pain worse.

Dan didn’t know how long he rode the bus, but he did know that he had no clue where he was when he got off of it. The road signs were much too blurry for him to read, so he just trudged down the road until suddenly a wave of regret washed over his tenuous mind. He collapsed on the pavement instantaneously and buried his head in his arms, sobs wracking his body. In all ways possible, Dan Howell was a mess. He couldn’t stop crying, he couldn’t stop shaking, and he couldn’t stop dialing Phil’s number on his phone.

He knew that Phil wouldn’t care. As far as Dan was concerned, Phil had completely detached himself. Why would he even answer the phone if Dan’s name lit up the screen?

Against Dan’s belief, Phil did pick up his call. His voice sounded husky, as if Dan had just woken him. Of course, it was three in the morning. What the hell was Dan thinking, once again?

“Daniel? Why are you calling me?” Phil’s voice pronouncing Dan’s name for the first time in what felt like ages caused a shiver to run down Dan’s spine.

“Uh, yeah. Phil? I’m lost.” Dan heaved, trying to hold the phone steady against his ear. “I took the bus and I don’t know where I am…”

“Are you drunk?”

“Off my ass, Phil.” Dan attempted at making his crying unnoticeable to the person on the other side of the line.

“And you’re in the middle of nowhere?”

“I mean, there are lights and signs but I can’t read any of them.” Dan glanced at a neon sign in front of him, but it hurt his eyes so he directed his view back down to his lap.

“Jesus, Dan. Why’d you call me?”

“Why wouldn’t I call you?” He inhaled sharply, bringing up one hand to his face to tug on his lower lip.

“I… You know why.” Dan could hear Phil swallow thickly on the other side of the line.

“I suppose I do.” Giving up all hope of holding the phone still as he began to shake even harder, Dan put it on speakerphone and balanced it on his knee.

“Do you have any money to stay somewhere?” Phil stayed practical and unattached from the conversation, despite Dan’s anguished portrayal.

“I have a few cards but I think I might just pass out on a bench…” Dan trailed, his line of sight wandering around the street in search of a bench.

“Oh, God. Don’t do that; it’s dangerous.”

“As if you care.” Dan scoffed, though the tears continued to stream down his face.

“I do care!”

“Like hell you do.” Dan accidentally let out a cry after he spoke, resulting in himself hanging up out of embarrassment.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ , fuck,” he mumbled, his clenched fists wiping harshly at his eyes.

Only a few moments passed before his phone began ringing, Phil’s name and picture illuminating the screen. Dan swiped across to accept the call, taking a deep breath as he tried to regain his composure.

“Hey, please try and read a sign. I’ll come pick you up. I’ll borrow a friend’s car.” Phil’s voice was soft, as if he were walking on eggshells.

“Phil, I’ve never been this far from home.” Dan choked back a sob and silence engulfed the line for a couple seconds.

“What are you on about? You’ve been to India. You’ve been to America. You’re probably not even _that_ far-”

“I don’t mean… I’m not talking about the apartment.”

“You’re still not that far from your parents’ house, in comparison to other places you’ve been.”

“Phil, shut up.” Dan took a ragged breath. “I mean _you_.”

No sounds came from the phone for a good while, though the sounds of the city enveloped Dan’s ears: a horn honking from a few blocks down, stilettos on the sidewalk from across the street, the white noise of the power running to the glaring signs.

“A person can’t be a home, Dan.” Phil finally spoke up, causing Dan’s already shattered heart to pulverize.

Dan felt and heard the blood rushing to his ears and he didn’t refrain from saying all he had pent up about for the past months, “You know what, Phil? That sucks for you, then, because you are one. You are my home. Before you, I was some lonely, pathetic, self-loathing loser with no future, but you came along and provided me with support and love. If that’s not a home, what is? I’ve never been so far from you, Phil. Not even before we met. I’m constantly hurting, being away from you, like you’re tearing me apart, layer by layer. Well, I’m wearing thin, and I need to come home.”

“I’m not-”

“Listen. I’m turning back into that same lonely, pathetic, _self-loathing_ loser except with an added feature of heartbreak… and I need you. I need to fucking come home to you.”

Dan panted into the speaker, his bottled energy all spent. He couldn’t believe himself for saying what he did, and part of him wanted to take it back. Part of him said he should’ve not accepted the call; he should’ve just fallen asleep somewhere and hoped nothing would happen to him (though he wouldn’t really mind if something did, at this point).

“Dan, you’re so drunk…” His voice faded; he wasn’t sure if he should take everything (or _anything_ ) Dan was saying seriously.

“I know I am, but I mean all this shit. It’s been swarming my brain for _months_ , drunk or not. I fucking need you.” Dan squeezed his palm against the pavement beside him.

“You don’t _need_ me,” Phil asserted, not quite prepared for what came next.

“I didn’t mean to fuck it up this _bad_ ; I didn’t mean to push you away!” Dan began to raise his voice, “I never wanted any of this to happen! I want you-”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Phil told, but Dan didn’t take it.

“It’s fucking not okay. We’re not _okay_. We’re broken and it’s my fault. I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to push you so far…”

“Can you just please try to read a sign? Tell me where you are.” Phil sighed into the phone, not acknowledging Dan’s apology and wishing he would just comply.

Eventually, Phil got Dan to read him out a sign. It turned out that on the bus, Dan had managed to get himself an hour and a half away from Phil.

“I’ll be there in two hours, max,” Phil promised, “Just, stay where you are, yeah? Don’t get into any trouble.”

Dan nodded before he realized Phil couldn’t see him, “Yeah. I’ll try.” His voice wavered and humiliation from all the events in the past hour of his life flooded into the pit of his stomach. He felt his face begin to turn red hot and he hung up the phone.

There were a few moments before Dan stood up and treaded over to a bench. Lying on the bench, Dan stared up at the cloudy, deep blue sky over him. The sky, he thought, looked kind of like how his head felt inside, and he figured it wouldn’t hurt if he closed his eyes for a bit.

* * *

 

Awoken with a light shake, Dan slit his eyes open to see that he was in the back of a car with Phil crouched over him. “Hey, Dan? We’re… home.”

“What?” Dan sat up too quickly, causing himself to lie back down and lift himself up more slowly the second time.

“You were on a bench when I found you and you wouldn’t wake up so I just… I just carried you to the car and laid you in the back,” Phil scratched the back of his neck, shuffling away from the open car door.

“I’m sorry, I- What’s going on?” Dan set a foot on the ground outside the vehicle, trying to stand up. Phil offered an arm for support, which Dan found unusual. Well, Dan found the whole situation to be unusual, at that point.

“Let’s just get you inside. I’ll bring you some water.”

The pair staggered to the door, where Phil let go of Dan to unlock it. After doing so, Phil guided Dan’s hand to the railing. Dan grimaced as he began stepping up the stairs, each separate step feeling like a squeeze of his disoriented brain.

“We have too many steps,” Dan complained, squishing his free hand against one temple. He clenched his eyes shut momentarily to ease the pressure.

“You can do it,” Phil continued in front of the younger boy, turning around every few steps to make sure the latter hadn’t fallen down.

After successfully mounting all the stairs, the pair walked into their apartment and Dan immediately dropped onto the floor to sit.

“I hurt,” he expressed, propping his elbows on his knees and cradling his head in his hands.

“Let me get you an ice pack and some water.” Phil padded away into the kitchen, leaving Dan to his thoughts.

It took a few more moments for him to remember the fact that he had even taken the bus, let alone the phone call with Phil. After he did recall that encounter, however, he wished he could drop off the face of the earth. No wonder Phil was acting so nice; Dan had just spilled his heart out! Phil probably felt bad for him. Maybe Dan was still a bit fuzzy around the edges from the alcohol, because for some reason he thought a good solution to the dilemma was to kneel his way out of the apartment door, slip down a few steps, and lean his head against the wall.

Dan could hear Phil call his name a few times before he opened the door, holding an ice pack and a water bottle in one hand.

“What are you doing out here?” Phil questioned, first handing Dan the ice pack and then unscrewing the cap from the water bottle before passing that over to him as well.

Taking the items from Phil, Dan pressed the ice pack to his head and pursed his lips, looking to the floor. He bowed his head into the ice pack before groaning softly at the sudden chill.

“You should probably go to sleep,” Phil recommended, gesturing for Dan to get up and come back into the apartment.

“You know I meant everything I said, right?” Dan muttered, glancing up at Phil before drinking from the provided water bottle.

Phil paused before reiterating, “You should probably go to sleep.”

“I get that you’ve moved on, or whatever,” Dan continued, despite Phil’s suggestion. “I just haven’t. I tried to, but I can’t. I think it’s horribly cliche to call you my _anchor_ , but.”

“We can talk after you get some sleep, alright? Long night.” Phil offered his hand to help Dan stand up, which he took. They trudged together to their bedrooms, Phil verifying that Dan actually got into his bed rather than flopping onto the floor before continuing to his own.

* * *

 

A split second of morning bliss presented itself as soon as Dan’s eyes opened to the subtle brightness of his room, but it was cast away just as the events from the night prior and early that morning rolled into Dan’s conscious. He became aware of the fact he felt absolutely disgusting, causing himself to plod into the bathroom and take a much needed shower.

After he dressed himself and returned his used ice pack to the freezer, he grabbed a new one and languishly walked into the living room, anxious to see if Phil would be waiting for him. Dan didn’t really know whether to feel surprised or not when he caught sight of his flatmate on the couch.

Phil didn’t seem to notice Dan until he took a seat on one of the colored dining chairs on the other side of the room and cleared his throat. Phil jumped slightly, before wishing Dan a good morning.

“So, can we… talk about it?” Dan inquired, biting his bottom lip to slightly soothe his wild nerves. He shouldn’t have been this nervous to talk to his… old best friend, but he was.

“Uh, yeah. I suppose we should.” Phil turned his body to face more towards his conversational partner.

Dan looked expectantly at Phil for him to continue, but it became obvious that Phil wanted Dan to speak first.

“Look, Phil. I told you everything already. Just explain to me what you’re going through,” Dan insisted, shifting in his seat.

Phil took a deep breath before starting, “I was lonely, with you giving me the cold shoulder and all. I thought you didn’t want… us, anymore,” Phil swallowed thickly. “And even though I did... want us, I thought you had moved on, going out every night. Not coming back home. So, I took my turn.”

“I didn’t see anybody,” Dan deadpanned, holding steady eye-contact with Phil until the latter broke and awkwardly coughed down into his chest.

“You understand that I still care about you, yeah? I worry.” Phil picked at his fingernails.

“Never acted like it.”

“You can’t say that like you _did!_ ” Phil’s voice raised unexpectedly, triggering Dan’s eyes to widen. “I am _no_ worse than you, in this situation.”

“ _I_ didn’t sleep around!” Dan’s voice escalated in response.

“Well, I sure thought you did.” Phil wouldn’t look Dan in the eyes, no matter how intensely Dan stared at him.

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” Phil lifted his gaze to the window. “Sleeping around doesn’t make me a bad person. It’s not like any of it _meant_ anything to me. Not like you did.”

Dan’s guard dropped completely at the last statement, and he began to cry. As soon as Phil heard a sniffle, his eyes snapped to the younger boy.

“You _still_ mean the whole world to me, Phil.” Dan’s speech hitched in the middle as he hiccuped.

“I- I didn’t mean it like-” Phil didn’t bother finishing the thought, instead he strode towards Dan and opened his arms, “Can I hug you?”

Dan only nodded, burying his dampened face into Phil’s shoulder. What surprised him was the scent of Phil’s cologne. The older boy had decided that morning, whether be it subconsciously or on purpose, to put on the cologne Dan loved, and perhaps that showed a step in the right direction.


End file.
